


Tell Me You Love Me

by ninwrites



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gift Fic, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Angst, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, Past to Present, Pining, Simon Lewis & Alec Lightwood Friendship, tipsy Alec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 01:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13202916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninwrites/pseuds/ninwrites
Summary: Sometimes, you just need a little liquid confidence...





	Tell Me You Love Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blasphemous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blasphemous/gifts).



> Part 1/3 Heartbreakers™ Christmas fics.
> 
> Tipsy Alec, and his friendship with Simon is something that has, frankly, been a while coming. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it <3 
> 
> \--
> 
> For Yara, a darling through and through, and one of the best people I know.

 

Alec wakes up to the worst, pounding headache of his life. 

 

Not even the night he celebrated passing the bar left him feeling this horrible. He honestly feels as though he could pass as an extra in The Walking Dead; he’d just have to lie on the ground and express his frustrated discomfort through self-pitying groans and grunts.

 

Alec rolls over, pushing down the acidic burn that sears the walls of his throat, shoving his head further into the gap between pillows, hoping that if he ignores the rest of the world it will kindly leave him alone. He’s not usually one for lamenting, but the situation calls for it. 

 

The pillowcases, he notices, distantly, are incredibly soft and silky, the sheets too; something his sheets definitely aren’t, nor have ever been - he doesn’t have the knowledge or much of the care for thread-count and whatever else is supposed to matter.

 

Alec peels his eyes open, the corners stinging and dry. The first thing he sees are the shockingly bright red and somewhat festively gold-trimmed bed sheets … which means-

 

Alec shoots up, his skull clamouring in screaming protest. He’s a little concerned that most of his memories from the night before are hazy and static, but more worrying is how he ended up in Magnus Bane’s bed.

 

Magnus, the host of the previous night’s Christmas party; Magnus, one of Alec’s dearest and closest friends since meeting in his last year of college.

 

Magnus, the man he’s been hopelessly in love with for two years. 

 

Alarm bells ring, an echo behind the drums in Alec’s mind, barely calmed by the fact that he’s wearing a pair of soft sweatpants that are undoubtedly more comfortable than anything he’s ever owned, or worn before. They didn’t … do anything, he and Magnus. Alec is certain of that much, certain he’d remember if they did, even if he regretted being drunk while it happened.

 

He’d love to know how he ended up here, though, in Magnus’ bed. He can account for the headache, but that’s about it. 

 

The door creaks open, then, slowly. Alec pulls the sheets up to his chin and huddles against the headboard, heart racing more than it usually does when Magnus is around. 

 

The effect his crush has on him is ridiculous on good days; he’d rather deal with the metaphorical axe in his skull than the crippling awkwardness he’s about to face. 

 

“You’re awake,” Magnus’ voice is as smooth as velvet - as  _ always _ \- something Alec thinks he should be far more irritated about than he actually is. “Good morning.”

 

“Uh-“ Alec swallows, ignoring the foul taste in his mouth. “Morning.”

 

Magnus steps into the room, cradling a bundle in his arms; Alec can see a towel, and what he thinks are clothes, but that is essentially all. 

 

His fingers twist in the red sheets. Magnus isn’t wearing a shirt, just a deep purple robe tied at the waist, exposing his toned chest and bringing to mind all the salacious thoughts Alec can’t find the strength to ignore. 

 

“I washed your clothes from last night,” Magnus explains. “And got you a spare towel, if you want to shower. Feel free to use any of the products in there-“ He drops the bundle onto the end of the bed, glancing … almost sheepishly, at Alec. 

 

“I’ll go and make some coffee.” He smiles, though the corners are strained and faint. “Don’t worry, Alexander - I slept on the couch.”

 

He spins on his heel and within seconds the room is empty. Alec feels sick, but this time it’s more from an unwarranted and inexplicable sense of guilt and shame than his hangover. 

 

* * *

 

It’s only at Isabelle’s firm and unyielding request, that Alec even agrees to go to the party. It’s not to see Magnus, but to keep his sister happy - the last thing he wants is to see his best friend, who he’s consequently in love with, kissing strangers beneath mistletoe and dancing to festive music without a care in the world.

 

Alec hates the jealousy that burns inside of him, Magnus is his own person, he isn’t something that Alec has, or owns, he has no reason to feel this way - so he tends to distance himself instead. 

 

But he’s never been able to resist anything his sister asks of him, and besides he - he misses Magnus. They haven’t seen each other much, what with the whirlwind of end-of-year rush and the stress that holidays always bring, and it’s beginning to wear him down. 

 

A party might not be the best place to reconnect, but it’s better than nothing - and he only promised to stay until it got too much, anyway, which means he’ll have the chance to greet his friends and maybe have a drink before calling it a night. 

 

Fortune has taken pity on him, for it’s not an ugly Christmas sweater party or anything with a criteria; it’s simply Magnus taking any excuse he can to throw a party. 

 

It’s one of the stupidly charming reasons that Alec had fallen for him. 

 

(They’d met in a truly cliched moment, where Alec had accidentally spilt his coffee on Magnus and dropped his own books when they collided between rows of bookshelves in the college library. Magnus had been a gentleman and brushed it off whilst Alec had stuttered and blushed like an idiot, and somehow their friendship had sparked since.)

 

The crush had been instant, the unrequited love an extra bonus that had built across time; Alec hadn’t noticed until it was too late. 

 

Now, he’s impossibly and irrevocably in love, and he can’t do anything about it.

 

* * *

 

Alec stares at himself in the mirror, steam clouding the edges.

 

The shower had been amazing, the pressure enough to temporarily drown out Alec’s worries and concerns, to provide something warm and distracting. Unfortunately, he’s not cruel enough to waist all of Magnus’ water, so he can’t stay under the self-pitying droplets forever. 

 

It doesn’t help that when he gets out he smells like sandalwood, or that the towel is fluffy and soft like a warm hug. 

 

He stares himself in the mirror, stomach twisting in uncomfortable knots. There are shadows under his eyes, cheeks sallow and pale, and he looks like a right mess. 

 

Wonderful.

 

He changes quickly, trying not to think about the fact that Magnus not only helped him change, but also washed his clothes for him, because Magnus is a wonderful friend and Alec … is something very different. 

 

He throws the towel into the hamper and leaves his hair damp, curled at his temples and around his ears. 

 

His gaze falls instantly on the bed, on the rumpled sheets he’s itching to straighten, a thousand questions bouncing against his skull. 

 

What  _ did _ he get himself into? 

 

* * *

 

“Alexander, you came!” 

 

Magnus wades through people like he’s parting the ocean, eyes alight and lined in gold; he’s wearing a tight, low cut red top, with sleeves that wrap around his biceps and dark gold pants that look painted on. 

 

He shouldn’t be able to pull this look off, the red boots and the red streaks in his hair and the collection of gold bracelets on his left wrist shouldn’t work as well as they do.

 

But it’s Magnus, and when his shimmering pink lips turn into a smile, Alec melts.

 

“Izzy sort of, dragged me here.” Alec explains, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. He’d dressed up, by his standards; “good” jeans, a maroon v-neck sweater and a considerably light leather jacket. 

 

“Well,” Magnus gives Alec’s outfit a quick glance. “I’m certainly glad she did. Can I get you a drink?”

 

Alec nods. “Uh, sure.” 

 

He hadn’t planned on drinking, but a beer or two shouldn’t hurt. He does have some level of alcohol intolerance, after all. He follows Magnus to the kitchen, muttering “hello’s” to anyone he recognises as he passes, adamant to not let his gaze slip down inappropriately.

 

It’s the last place his gaze needs to be caught on. 

 

“Beer?” Magnus asks, pulling open the fridge door. 

 

“Sounds great,” Alec replies, accepting the green bottle with a quiet thanks. 

 

There’s music playing around the loft, fitting for the theme, but it feels quieter here. Perhaps because Magnus is looking at him with impossibly bright eyes and this tiny, dizzying half-smile.

 

“I really am glad you came, Alec.” Magnus whispers, as though he notes the quiet too.

 

“Really?” Alec hates the hope that lights a flame in his chest. 

 

Magnus frowns, reaching out to squeeze Alec’s shoulder. “Of course - you’re one of my best friends, Alexander, I always appreciate time we can spend together.” 

 

The flame of hope is quickly doused. 

 

* * *

 

The delicious smell of coffee and bacon is almost enough to convince Alec’s body that his hangover isn’t that bad.

 

The lights aren’t that bright, either, lace curtains keeping the harsh rays at bay, because Magnus just has to be kind and considerate, washing Alec’s clothes, and making him breakfast and not mentioning a single thing about whatever happened the night before. 

 

“Here, figured you’d need this.” Magnus slides over a glass of water and two painkillers. “Your lifesource will be brewed in a minute.”

 

“Thanks,” Alec murmurs. The glass is cool to the touch, the water cold as it trails down his throat, pooling behind his ribs.

 

“How are you feeling?” Magnus asks, before frowning. “Sorry, sorry - that’s a stupid question, isn’t it?”

 

The sound of his nervous laughter freezes over Alec’s spine, causing him to straighten. “It’s not stupid. I’m feeling, better. The shower definitely helped.”

 

“Good,” Magnus nods, half-turned towards Alec. “I’m glad to hear that.”

 

The silence that follows isn’t awkward, but it is strange, and to Alec at the very least, loaded with discomfort.

 

* * *

 

Alec’s on his third beer. The world looks a little brighter than it had when he walked in, the lights hanging around the room dancing before his eyes.

 

There are people dancing, too, because this is a party and that’s what happens when alcohol and music are involved. 

 

Or so he hears. Alec isn’t much of a dancer, he prefers to huddle in the corner, observing, as he is now. 

 

Magnus looks  _ fucking _ good. He’s dancing with Isabelle, currently, leading her in a relaxed waltz, spinning her around and giggling when they bump into others, all elbows and shoulders. 

 

Happiness suits Magnus. He has this glow about him, brought on from more than just the alcohol, but the atmosphere itself. He thrives in situations like this; loud, fun, with people everywhere the eye looks. He’s a social butterfly by definition and appearance - and Alec is his opposite.

 

Alec is like a dusty, monochromatic, socially-averse moth. 

 

There’s nothing wrong, with being averse to social situations, it’s just - one of the differences between Magnus and himself that stands out, stark and flashing.

 

Isabelle giggles, Magnus’ own laugh echoing her as they trip and stumble, gracefully pulling themselves upright a moment later. It causes an ache inside Alec, deep and hollow that spreads outwards from the pit of his gut up towards his sternum, settling deep within his bones.

 

He’s in love with Magnus, so much that he can’t truthfully remember when it began - it feels as though he’s always been infatuated with him, from the moment they met. It’s hopeless and foolish and only proves to hurt him - but being without Magnus is a far worse alternative than pining after him.

 

Alec downs the last of his beer in one go, barely tasting any of it.

 

* * *

 

The clink of metal against porcelain grates against Alec’s skull; not for the hangover, because the painkillers have chased that away, but for the highlight of the fact that he and Magnus have barely spoken an entire sentence to each other. 

 

The silence is suffocating, building pressure inside of his lungs until he chokes on the awkwardness.

 

“Thanks for, this.” Alec clears his throat. “Breakfast, and coffee. I appreciate it.”

 

Magnus smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and that’s the hardest part. “You’re welcome.”

 

Alec takes a long, slow sip of his drink, hands wrapped around the warm mug. It tastes amazing, because Magnus had memorised his coffee order as soon as he’d heard it; it’s not exactly complicated, one sugar, a drop of milk, almost to the point of burning, but it’s the thought that counts and Magnus is one of the most kind and thoughtful people that Alec’s ever met. 

 

He can’t lose Magnus. Whatever happened the night before, it can’t be the end.

 

“Hey, Magnus?” His voice is weak and croaky but it’s enough to draw the attention he’s after.

 

Magnus raises a silent eyebrow, asking without words.

 

Alec summons unforeseen strength, oxygen burning his lungs. “What happened last night?”

 

* * *

 

Alec has lost count of what drink number he’s on. Maia convinced him, after his third beer, to take a shot… or four, he can’t remember.

 

He’s feeling quite light, his skin is warm and buzzing and everything is quite loud but it doesn’t hurt. 

 

He bumps into Simon, coming out of the kitchen. Simon’s hair is sticking out at all ends, a pair of reindeer antlers atop his head, cheeks flushed and full. He’s smiling, too, but Alec can’t truthfully remember a time where Simon wasn’t smiling.

 

He’s a good kid, even if he talks without considering whether anyone actually wants to listen. 

 

“Alec!” Simon grins, antlers tipping with the movement of his excited head-shake. 

 

“Simon,” Alec thinks he’s smiling. It’s pretty easy, Simon’s happiness is infectious, even more so when Alec isn’t barricading himself from it. “I like your antlers.” 

 

Simon lights up like a damn Christmas tree. “Thanks! I have a spare pair, if you want?” 

 

Alec laughs, surprising himself. “I’m good, thanks.”

 

“Cool, cool, cool.” Simon’s nods. “Cool. Hey, I know parties aren’t really your thing but, you’re okay, right?”

 

Alec blinks. “Yeah, I’m - I’m fine. It’s not that bad. That’s … nice of you, to ask.”

 

Simon shrugs, placing his hand on Alec’s shoulder. Alec lets him. “Just wanted to make sure, I-” Simon hiccups, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. “To make sure that you’re okay, I know parties aren’t your thing and all-”

 

“I’m good, thanks Si.” Alec feels warmer, but not from the alcohol. He and Simon have never been close, but he certainly respects the guy. “Surprisingly, good.”

 

“I gotta say, I’m happy you came but I’m not entirely surprised?” Simon glances around, swaying slightly on his feet. “I mean, you came for Magnus, right? Because it’s his party and you love him and everything…”

 

A rumble of laughter bubbles up Alec’s throat. “What? Me, l-love Magnus? That’s-” The laughter dies off, slowly fading away. It doesn’t seem as funny when he pretends to deny it aloud. 

 

“Is it obvious?” He asks in a whisper hushed and harsh, leaning in to prevent anyone else from overhearing. “That I, that I - love him?”

 

He really, really hopes not. 

 

Simon shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, Isabelle had to point it out to me, but once she did I could see it. You just seem, happier around him, you always smile when his name is  mentioned and you jump at the chance to be near him. It’s not a bad thing, it’s really sweet.”

 

“It’s not a good thing either,” Alec rakes his hands through his hair, suddenly feeling considerably sober. “What if Magnus knows? If it’s so obvious, he could know, and if he knows, then he might not want to be friends anymore-”

 

Simon’s hands clamp around Alec’s shoulders. “Alec. Magnus thinks you’re great, and he’s not a dick, he wouldn’t stop being friends with you over this.”

 

Alec takes deep, shaky breaths. Simon inclines his head. “That being said,” Simon bites at his cheek, glancing around quickly. “I think he might be in love with you too. He’s a little harder to read, admittedly, but - there’s definitely something there.”

 

Alec decides that he doesn’t have enough courage, of any kind, to face such a declaration. Fortunately, Simon is more than happy to help his endeavour towards acceptance.

 

* * *

 

Magnus’ eyes are blown wide. There’s an itch at the back of Alec’s neck, creeping across his shoulders like a cold chill.

 

“You don’t remember?” 

 

Alec grips his fork until his knuckles are grey with the strain. “I remember, pieces. Snatches. Watching Simon’s face screw up after he chased a tequila shot, being dragged onto the dance floor with Izzy for half a song … donning a Christmas hat, at one point.”

 

The corner of Magnus’ mouth curls up. “You seemed like you were having a lot of fun. You smiled a lot. It was nice to see.”

 

“I don’t remember a moment where you didn’t smile.” Alec admits, staring down at his plate. “It was definitely your night.”

 

Magnus hums. “It was a party. I always have fun at those. It was a relief to see that you did, too.”

 

Alec nips nervously at his bottom lip. “They’re not usually my thing, but … I wasn’t going to miss a chance to see you.” 

 

Something about his words, about the tiny exhale that slips between Magnus’ lips, about the hand that Magnus has sitting on the table, fingers curling inwards - it all culminates into a lone memory from the night before, hazy around the edges but clear in its intention.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

* * *

 

Alec trails his hand along the wall, laughter bubbling in his throat and through his limbs - he feels like a balloon, floating along without a care in the world. 

 

He left Simon to Isabelle’s graces, for she’s a tad more sober than they are, and Alec himself is just - stumbling. 

 

He told Simon he was looking for Magnus, but he’s lost sight, and now he’s aimless. 

 

He loves Magnus. He should probably tell him, it’s something he deserves to know. And it’s always nice to hear, that someone loves you. 

 

He knows Magnus loves him, he just doesn’t know if Magnus loves him in the way that friends should, or the way Alec does; deeper, stronger, with an underlying, aching hope.

 

Not that he wants Magnus to hurt, in any way, that’s not it at all, he just … hopes that they’re on the same page.

 

He turns the corner, not sure where he’s headed to, when he spots Magnus by the balcony. His feet carry him forwards, mind practically singing because he hadn’t the chance to really talk to Magnus, not properly, not about important things. 

 

He slips past the balcony doors, letting them click just behind him. The moon illuminates Magnus’ silhouette, bouncing off the bracelets around his wrist. 

 

Then he turns, and the smile that grows at sight of Alec is something not even the moon could match by brightness or beauty. 

 

“Alexander,” He twists, half of his body inclined towards Alec, his arm resting along the railing. “I’ve just come to get some fresh air - it’s a little stifling in there, even for me.”

 

Alec nods, even though he only caught half of the sentence. His feet carry him towards Magnus, a destination marked in his mind like the  _ x _ on a pirate’s map. 

 

“You’re looking a little flushed,” Magnus notes, eyes narrowing in scrutiny, the smile never leaving. “I suppose Christmas isn’t the only spirit influencing your mood.”

 

He laughs, softly, the sound like chimes and bells and everything good and poetic in the world. Magnus has such a range, he’ll go from speaking as though he’s giving a speech, entrancing and drawing, to soft-spoken and intimate, all within the space of a sentence. 

 

Alec loves him. 

 

_ “I love you.” _

 

* * *

 

The chair screeches against the floor, a second away from toppling. Alec’s heart is pounding, strong enough to crack his fragile ribs, and none of the air he’s breathing in is making it to his lungs. 

 

“I-“ He clears his throat, hands clenched, nails pressing moon-shaped indentations into his palms. “I told you I loved you. I just … said it. Out loud. Like a fool.”

 

“You’re not a fool.” Magnus denies. “Anything but.”

 

Alec chokes out a laugh that sounds as forced as it feels. “I appreciate the kindness, Mags, but there’s no point lying. I’m a mess, and an idiot and I told you that I loved you whilst intoxicated! There’s so much wrong with that I don’t even know where to start.”

 

He stalks from the chair, skin burning hot and stretched taught across his bones; he feels trapped, in this cage he made for himself, and he threw the key off the balcony last night when he confessed his feelings for Magnus. 

 

_ Honestly _ .

 

“Alec, wait-“ Magnus’ voice sounds distant and echoing, although Alec has barely made it into the main living area. “Alec, please…”

 

It’s not the please, that halts Alec in his steps. It’s the soft, aching  _ “Alexander”  _ that follows it.

 

He stills, but refuses to turn around, deeming the conversation easier to stomach if he can keep his eyes closed, keep the inertia shoved down.

 

“Do you regret, telling me?” Magnus asks, mere inches away. 

 

Alec swallows last the lump in his throat. “No,” he admits, because that isn’t really what he regrets. “I regret that I was drunk, that I sprung it on you in such an awkward situation - but I meant it. I do, love you. As more than a friend should.”

 

Magnus steps forward, his hand hovering near Alec’s elbow. “Good. That’s a relief.”

 

Alec turns, slowly, heart racing as Magnus’ hand hesitantly closes around his upper arm. “A relief?”

 

Magnus nods, a tiny smile breaking through. “Absolutely. Because, you see, I didn’t get the opportunity last night to tell you that I feel the same - I’m relieved that I get this second chance, when we’re both sober and in the moment.”

 

_ Moment, _ Alec thinks.  _ We’re actually having a moment.  _

 

Magnus lifts his other hand, cupping Alec’s cheek. Alec’s hands rest on Magnus’ hips, fingers caught in the strap of his robe. 

 

“Alexander Lightwood,” Magnus leans forward, slow and teasing. Alec’s breath sticks in his throat. “I love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I can remember, and I will love you for longer still. It’s a relief and so much more, to know you feel the same.”

 

“I do,” Alec nods, the tip of his nose bumping against Magnus’. “I do feel the same. I love you so much it hurts sometimes, mostly because I didn’t think-“

 

Magnus brushes his lips against the corner of Alec’s mouth; Alec’s brain sparks and then short-circuits. “Fortunately, we’ve both come to our senses. And there are certain … traditions, we should honour.”

 

“Traditions?” Alec frowns. “What-“

 

Magnus glances up, pointedly, hand sliding back into Alec’s hair. “Mistletoe, Alexander. Will I be granted a kiss or is it too improper, considering we haven’t even been on a first date yet-“

 

A sure-fire way to quiet Magnus is, Alec quickly learns, to simply kiss him like it’s the only important thing in the world.

 

It’s hardly an arduous task, considering how long Alec has been dreaming of it, longing for it - the knowledge that Magnus returns his feelings is something he’ll need a while to believe, but Magnus seems quite intent on proving it.

 

Alec thinks, with a bit of practice, he might be convinced. 

**Author's Note:**

> 2/3 will be posted this time tomorrow <3 
> 
> \--
> 
>  
> 
> links - for those interested:
> 
> Twitter: [ninwrites](https://mobile.twitter.com/ninwrites) for fic stuff/updates/snippets + [malteser_24](https://mobile.twitter.com/malteser_24) for general fandom mess + small threads  
> Tumblr: coming soon 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> \- Nin ❤


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